Akihito Yoshida photo exhibition The Absence of Two from 8/5-20

07/21/2017

Having left his job as a primary school teacher in order to pursue the art of photography, Yoshida had been taking photos of the day to day relationship between his younger cousin and grandmother, ever since his early aspirations towards photography. His grandmother had been living along side his cousin since the day his cousin was born.

The theme of this exhibition will be the expression of ‘existence’ as well as ‘absence’ in the relationship between his grandmother and cousin, whom of which tragically ended his own life.

We look forward to share this story with you.

(When this project first began it was titled ‘Falling Leaves,’ having derived from the death of his cousin. However, since his grandmother passed away in 2016, due to the absence of both his cousin and grandmother, the title has now been changed to ‘The Absence of Two.’)

*At the photo exhibition you will also be able to see the handmade photo book from Yoshida.
**The reservation period for the 111 limited production photo books have now closed.

The Absence of Two

The town kunitomi is located Miyazaki Prefecture in Kyushu Japan. This small and peaceful rural town with it’s field is where my grandmother,who was born in 1928, and my cousin Daiki, who was born in 1980, lived together.
On behalf of his busy parents, ,y grandmother carefully raised and took care of Daiki from the time he was a child, living with him in the same house, eating and sleeping in the same room together.
“I attended his elementary school entrance ceremony, you know. All the other children’s mothers were young, and I’m sure Daiki wasn’t happy with being the only one who’s grandma showed up. I bet the teachers also wondered why his grandma had come”
So my grandmother said one day, as she showed me a photo album. It contained photographs of many memorable moments, from his Shichi-Go-San celebration and elementary school entrance ceremony to his sports day. The album was like one that could be found in any home, the only slight difference being that my grandmother a ways appe red along with Daiki in the pictures.
For my grandmother, Daiki was no doubt a treasure that had been entrusted to her during the late years of her life. Ever time I visited my grandmother’s house, she told me various stories about Daiki. Always sitting next to her on these occasions was a young Daiki, with a beaming smile on his face. Meanwhile, for Daiki, my grandmother must have been the very “place where he belonged.” Their time together over many years gave birt to a bond that transcended the usual relationship between “grandmother” and “grandchild”- a strong sense of and trust flowed within both of them. One Daiki mentioned to me.

“Since I grew up showered by grandma’s affection, I think it’s natural that I take care of her until she dies.”

True to his words, Daiki remained by my grandmother’s side ever after becoming a student at a nursing university, continuing to live with her and fully devoting himself to her care.
Until I began photographing them, I had observed their small everyday world as nothing out of the ordinary. The image of Daiki off to university. The image of the two of them relaxing on the floor, chatting about small things. Now, however, every time I look at the images I continued to document of the two thought my lens, as both a family member and a photographer , these seemingly ordinary scenes appear as precious moment.
This story was supposed to come to an end with my grandmother’s death, which would no doubt come in the not-so-distant future. However, it unexpectedly ended in a different way.

“I wonder where he’s gone to? He went out on his motorbike and hasn’t been back since”

At the end of February in 2014, Daiki suddenly went missing. There being nothing she could do, my grandmother just stood in front of the window and kept waiting for Daiki to return home. Almost a year passed without any word of his whereabouts, until one day Daiki’s body was found in the anything behind, and had brought an end to the 23 years of his life. As if following in his footsteps, in the following year my grandmother passed away.
The last thing that remained were countless photographs of the two and their life together, all the time needing each other, supporting each other, and caring for each other. Thought there photographs, which capture images of his small everyday life in this rural town, I try to reach out to them, and to engage in a dialogue with them once again.